


Audition

by NestPlaster



Category: Insane Clown Posse, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: A Night Under The Stars, Balloons, Cars, Classic Cars, Clowns, Dark Magic, Desert, Fast Cars, Gasoline In The Air Tonight, M/M, Magic, Oil, Oily Rags On Manly Flesh, Peril, Race, Racing, Scary Clowns, Smoking, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestPlaster/pseuds/NestPlaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An aside in which Brian earns his place in the family - may drift from cannon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It started so simply, sitting around the table, having dinner with The Family. Almost nonchalant, without making a scene, Dom looked over to Brain and intoned "We'll race tomorrow night, at the factory." Nobody said anything, but there was a drop in the conversation before everyone started chatting again, and Brian knew that this one was different - he just didn't know why yet.

* * *

The Factory sounded special but was really just a burned out industrial park where the city had moved on and left some people behind, just a bunch of castaway buildings and pavement that used to matter. The cops never came out here and once the pavement was swept mostly clean it made a good spot to race. Not exciting enough for a big street race, but plenty of room to build up speed, and plenty of rusted out rebar and decaying concrete to drift past. You want a course, you can build it to taste out here with a few pieces of flagging tape.

Nobody had said anything last night or today, and nobody showed up to watch the race. Brian knew something was different, although Dom looked calm and collected, muscles relaxed as he leaned against the fender of his Charger, his frame mirroring the subtle lines of the classic American Muscle parked on the factory floor. He always looks like this, mused Brian, no matter what. Building could be burning to the ground around him and he'd look like it was happening on his order, on his schedule, completely in control.

Brian pulled up alongside Dom, hard and fast but under control, dropping the nose of his Skyline level with the Charger. He wanted to take back a little, show that even if Dom was calling the shots he could keep up and maintain control, but Dom just nudged an eyebrow and let the faintest hit of a smile flicker across his face. This race would have to be won out on the street, not here at the starting line.

* * *

By the third corner Brian could feel the sweat on his palms, nerves he thought he had banished from racing life finding their way out of some back corner of his mind. Dom had gotten him off the line, no surprise with the Charger, and was barely holding onto the lead as they pulled a hard left around the crumbling brick remains of a shop. Sweat or not he kept a firm grip on the shifter knob as he gripped it firmly and slide down into 4th, feeling the power transfer down through the rubber to the tarmac, and edged up closer to the Charger.

Another hard right, inches off Dom's rear end, and they pulled into the ruined husk of a building. The dark blue flagging tape used to mark the course was hard to see in the shadowy confines of the building, and had them swerving between columns, transmissions screaming up and down as they slowed and accelerated to maintain position. The Skyline was nimble and responsive but Dom held the lead with a masterful hand, never quite allowing Brian to gain control.

He's good, thought Brian, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel hard as he grit his teeth. Good, but it'll take more than good to beat me tonight.

* * *

Dom glanced in his rear view as they burst through the scraps of wood nailed across the exit from the factory floor, splinters erupting forward in a spray, and a smile crossed his face as he saw Brian still inches off his bumper. "Not bad for a cop" he rumbled to himself as he down shifted into another hard turn, sliding onto the roadway. He'd set up the course with a lot of curves, favouring the import, but couldn't resist having a little bit of straightaway to showcase the Hemi. The engine roared deep and loud as he opened it up.

* * *

Brian knew he would lose ground on the straightaway, no big deal, but found himself bested in the corners. The industrial ruin left minimal space for passing, and as the sleek cars slid through tight tunnels of concrete and brickwork he realized the course was not going to let him past. As they peeled around the final corner, cars as tight together as their friendship, Brian edged forward and kissed Dom's bumper with his own - sending the message that even if the game was rigged, he was right there on top of him.

They slammed into across the threshold and across the floor, dropping speed as aggressively as they had gained it at the start. As Dom slowed to a halt Brian couldn't resist swinging past him in a drift, an elegant dance of driving prowess leaving their doors adjacent, vehicles nose to rear.

* * *

Brain stepped out into the sudden post-race stillness. Dust in the air danced in the sunlight streaming in through the ragged, half-fallen corrugated steel roof, and the metallic ping of cooling engines sang through the air. His heart was pounding, he hadn't felt like this since he first starting racing as a teenager, without even a license to his name. How had Dom taken him so easily back to this place?

The driver side door on the Charger swung open naturally and Dom stepped out, drawing himself up to full height before flexing his shoulders and tilting his neck slightly. "Nice race" he drawled, reaching out a hand. "Not bad for a cop."

Brian reached out and clasped his hand. "Ex-cop" he replied, "and don't" - his words cut off by squealing tires and the crack of splintering lumber. Brian caught a glimpse of a pair of late model sedans, impossibly agile, crashing through a boarded up loading bay, white painted with menacing black highlights. Before he could see any more he was spun around and pressed up against the Charger, face planted against the cool steel of the door post, with Dom's muscular frame pinning him against the car.

Shots rang out, a quick burst from an automatic weapon, the crack of the explosion chased by the patter of bullets raining down on the Skyline. Engines roared and faded as the cars fled the scene as quickly as they arrived, a faint war cry of "Woop Woop!" echoing across the factory floor.

Brain felt Dom flex and twist as he scanned the area, then finally relax - but not pull back. "That wasn't meant for today" he said, his deep voice barely a whisper in Brain's ear. "But after today you're family... and you need to know about our family feud."

A moment passed and arms tightened around Brain's torso, pulling him close. "I'm sorry you found out like this", the words tumbling out of Dom's mouth like gravel pouring from a bucket. "I wish we had more time."

Brian relaxed back into the sudden embrace from behind, the tension of the day broken despite the new questions flooding into his mind. Struggles and trials loomed in the future, but for the moment, sandwiched between the unyielding embrace of Dom and the Charger, he knew he was where he needed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War ... war never changes.

"Yeah right."

The voice rose with a high pitched, laconic drawl from the bulky figure sprawled against the sun-beaten white plastic of the lawn chair. "Bull-shit I tell you, that the boss would ask for us. You done be played son!" The young man took a long draw on the scrawny joint in his hand, maintaining his composure for another second before his frame shook and rolled up a heavy cough. He exhaled and looked into his friends eyes for a response, squinting to see past the greasepaint and into his heart.

"Fo shizzle it's ON" exclaimed Z Dope Snagz, gesturing wildly with the hand holding a half-empty bottle of Faygo. Orange dots speckled his undershirt, a testament to his enthusiasm even when the bottle was fresh. "It checked out dog, it's real! We gonna meet the man on the morrizzle, Huffle!" He paced around the yard with such energy and enthusiasm that Huffle G Puffinstuff knew that, joke or no joke, they had to take the chance. This could be big.

* * *

The two bangers stood side by side after entering the dimly lit room. Smoke hung heavy in the air and only a faint silhouette was visible behind the desk, a mammoth bulk in vaguely human shape leaned back into the deepest shadows. The posturing and talking of the past afternoon fell from the young men like a sheet being pulled off a new car, and they were revealed in their base form.

Violent J leaned forward slowly, following the glowing tip of his joint into the light, slowly revealing the arcane sigils etched onto his face in greasepaint. The lines were as sharp as if they had been drawn by a razor, the right angles and straight edges an impossible contrast against his cheeks and jowls. He slowly came to rest with his elbows on the desk. His voice smooth like silk yet dripping with understated menance he opened, "So I hear you boys wants to be family."

* * *

"Man, we got this room, and we getting some cars, and..." Z Dope was pacing again, just about bouncing off the walls, the tiny by-the-hour hotel room too small to contain his energy. His kicks near sparked off the carpet, the undershirt hanging loosely on his lanky frame. "And man, this cooler, all we gonna need!"

"Yeah brother" rasped Huffle, taking another long pull on a joint nearly as fat as his pudgy fingers. "I think he must see something, y'know, in us. I mean, for this. We gonna be a big deal man, real soon now." He leaned back onto the bed and regarded Z Dope lazily through eyes like pits of tar in a field of white. The way his jeans hung low on his skinny hips, his shoulder blades popping out like razor blades from his wirey torso. "We gonna go up in the family together, brother."

* * *

It was a warm day but Z Dope felt a shiver run up and down his spine as the garage door swung up on well oiled chains, ascending to the heavens and revealing the treasures within. Never one to follow behind he felt paralysed by anticipation, and Huffin G Puffinstuff rolled smoothly past him across the threshold, the silken contours of his team jersey flowing smoothly across his broad back as he walked.

"Maaaaan" intoned Puffinstuff, and for once Z Dope Snagz has nothing to add.

The sedans shone under the harsh lighting, glossy finish still pristine on the custom paint job. The blindingly white base coat was accented along the main lines with jet black. Larger rectangles framed the headlight, hinted at the windows, triangles menaced just below the windshield with points that seemed to stab out at their own eyes. "It's like us bro;" said Huffle, "they look like us."

* * *

Deep in enemy territory, light from the setting sun streamed brightly through the rare crack in the boards over the windows. Empty shards of brightly colored latex lay scattered across the floor, shortly joined by one more as Huffle G Puffinstuff bit into an elaborate tied balloon dog and sucked back the nitrous contained within. "Ahhh yeah" he said, pulling his bulk upright with only a slight wobble. "We're here bro, we're in."

Z Dope Snagz finished his own balloon giraffe, feeling himself on top of the world in this moment. He stepped across the stained mattress on the floor, marvelling at their fortune, admiring the muscles buried deep beneath the heavy set frame of his long time friend. "Yeah bro" he agreed, playfully punching at Puffinstuff's shoulder, "yeah bro."

"No man, I mean... we're here." said Puffinstuff -- and pulled Snagz in tight for an embrace. "We're here, and maybe tomorrow we won't be. Y'know?"

* * *

Snags hand was sweaty on the knob of the shifter, the sun in his eyes, his heart full of joy and uncertainty at the night before. His foot was heavy on the accelerator as his vehicle raced forward, tight on the rear of his partner. At the last second he punched forward and they burst through the wall together; splinters of wood seeming to rain into the dusty interior in slow motion.

Window down he reached out with his left hand and sprayed wildly, barely keeping his grip on the pavement while pointing the barrel roughly at the other cars. In a blur it was over, they were racing out the far end of the building into the rays of the sun. He would never admit it but in this moment he didn't care if he had hit or missed. Everything was right, and they were family now.

Woop woop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another job. They're up for the driving, but are they up for anything else that might occur?

Days had passed since that race at The Factory, and Brain was starting to question his sanity.

Brian was pretty sure he remembered something, although the intensity of the moment left him a little uncertain as to exactly what it was he remembered. There was hard steel, the Charger pressing into the small of his back, and hard ... hard Dom, pressing him against the car and shielding his body from the assault of the painted gangsters that had crashed their post-race celebration.

That was fine (and maybe a little more than fine), but since then Dom hadn't said a word, not about that. Looks were passed, from Dom and the rest of the family, but Brian was never quite sure if it was one of -those- looks, or if it was just a look and he was reading too much into it. It'd be easier if someone would just say something, although Brian wasn't sure he was ready for that conversation either.

It was another hot summer night and everyone was hanging around the backyard and throughout the house, nursing Corona and listening to some chill tunes. Everyone was also watching Brian, or at least that's how he felt about it, and finally he put an empty bottle down and found his way to the garage for a break from all the friendly glances and smiles. Why was everyone so happy all the time anyways? At least the cars never smiled.

Brian ducked under the half raised garage door and into the dimly lit interior. It was still hot in here but a bit cooler in the shade, and the scent of oil and gasoline made him feel at home in a heartbeat. He breathed a sign of relief as his eyes adjusted to the lower light, then jumped in surprise as Dom stood up from behind the Charger and greeted him.

"Hey bud" intoned Dom. He held a polishing cloth in his hand and casually worked the front fender of his Charger, removing a spot that nobody else could see. "I was hoping to run into you in private. We got something to talk about." Brian felt the floor drop a few inches beneath his feet, but a deep breath allowed him to reply casually. He hoped.

"Sure Dom" Brian said, leaning back on a workbench (and in the process, providing some needed backup to his suddenly questionable knees. "What's on your mind?"

"We've got a job." Dom replied. He looked critically at the near-pristine rag in his hand and dropped it into the laundry bucket, picking up a fresh one to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Bryan couldn't help but notice the light gleaming off the contours of his manly brow, and almost missed the next statement. "Our friends, the clowns. They're meeting tonight, and we need to be there."

Brian looked back quizzically, finding that easier than formulating a coherent response as Dom casually toyed with the rag, his fingers working the fabric with a powerful grace that hinted at a greater underlying strength. "It's not the big gathering, that comes later" continued Dom, atypically verbose. "But this is where the location is set, and we need to learn that."

"So we just walk in and ask?" asked Brian. The question sounded sarcastic in his head, but when voiced he could hear himself asking for guidance. He knew he could do this job, whatever it was, he could do any job -- why was he asking questions like this of his partner?

"We just -drive- in", replied Dom, "and drive right back out. They distribute the plans by car. We sneak in at night and steal a ride, then you courier it out of the compound, and into our hands. They won't even know it's gone until the invite doesn't show up in northern Canada."

It was a crazy plan, and exactly the sort of plan they had built a relationship on. Brian nodded agreement, not even arguing about who would drive. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and it wasn't nerves about the job.

\---

Once the recon was done and the numbers were in they were left with a six minute window between patrol cars working the perimeter of the desert compound. Sound carries at night in the desert and they were aiming for 20 seconds dead center, working a gully to hide the deep throttle of the hemi plunging them forcefully into enemy territory. There wasn't much margin for error, but a the best drivers didn't need a margin at all.

Dom shifted down and they raced forward. Brian could see tail lights vanish over a hill to their left, hear the high pitched scream of the buggy leaving the area. He couldn't hear the next one yet but knew it wouldn't be far off. The Charger surged forward along the dry creek bed marking their path. It was low but not entirely straight, and Dom was in the relaxed calm state that characterised his most serious driving. Brian glanced down at his hand on the shifter and swallowed hard as he saw the tendons in the hand, muscles relaxed but ready as Dom anticipated the next gear change. He quickly looked back up at the stars filling the desert sky and tried to focus on the mission.

They made it past the perimeter and close to the edge of the compound when Dom clipped the rock. Running lights out there was no good way to avoid it but the tire shredded all the same and rocked them sideways hard into a larger one. The Charger plowed through but Brian knew right away it was walking dead, the radiator punctured and losing water. Dom cursed and swerved into a shadow, downshifting and cutting back hard as he fought to bring the beast to a halt. They slammed to a stop as the stars vanished from the skies, and Brian gradually realised Dom had somehow found a shack to hide in, somewhere on the very edge of the cult activity.

Dom cut the engine and they listened to the metal ping as it cooled, the night suddenly very quiet save for the high pitched whine of the desert cars circling the compound. "We'll fix it" Dom said, and they both knew they could, "but we'll need light. Looks like we're spending the night here."

Brian looked over and saw a gleaming brow, a clean shaven cheekbone, features highlighted in a shaft of moonlight dropping through the decrepit shack and across the face of his partner. His palms got sweaty as he agreed. "Yep" he choked out through a dry mouth, "we'll get back on track at first light."

If he made it to first light with his sanity intact.


End file.
